


Now We Are

by JennLynn77



Series: The Mind Palace Reprogramming [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom John, Bottom Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Come as Lube, Emotional BAMF John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Important Conversations, Insecure John, Insecure Sherlock, Johnlock Roulette, Lots of dialogue, M/M, Married Sex, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 04, Spit As Lube, Top John, Top Sherlock, Vibrators, Weddings, switchlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 21:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14269779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennLynn77/pseuds/JennLynn77
Summary: “I never thought I’d have a friend let alone a husband. I never knew I even wanted a husband until I met you. I love you more than a locked room murder. I love you more than a case we would rate a 10. I love you more than that thing you make with the peas. I love you more than ginger nuts. In short, I love you more than anything I have ever seen or known for the entirety of my life. Thank you for believing in me, for believing in us, and for never giving up hope for us making our way back to each other. John Watson-Holmes. You, as always, keep me right.” Sherlock reached down and grabbed John by the left hand and yanked him from his chair and pulled him straight into his arms.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Part Four of The Mind Palace Reprogramming
> 
> It would be easier to understand this story if you read the three short stories that came before this one.
> 
> I'm going to be marking this series as complete. I've left them in a good place, I think. There may be a continuation at some point down the line. Maybe an epilogue? If there were any of you waiting to read this because it was sort of a WIP, never fear, it's safe to read now! 
> 
> I have a Tumblr if you'd like to come and say hi to me! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/johnyouareamazingyouarefantastic
> 
> I'm American and I did my best to fix American English to British English in terminology and spelling. I have no beta, so all mistakes are my own. If there are any glaring errors, spelling, grammar or otherwise that prevent your enjoyment of this work, please let me know. I love kudos and adore comments, so let me know what you think if you finish the story! Thanks for reading!

Chapter One

 

“John, I don’t think I can do this.”

 

Sherlock sat on the floor in front of his chair, his laptop opened on the seat, his back to John, looking at a website designed to help plan weddings. John was sitting in his worn red chair, watching Sherlock cautiously.

 

“What can’t you do, Sherlock?” John asked, his smile warm but his eyes were a bit squinty.

 

“This!” Sherlock waved his hands around himself. “I don’t think I can do this. Again.” Sherlock sighed, feeling both relieved and apprehensive.

 

“Again?”

 

“Plan another wedding.” Sherlock turned his eyes to the floor.

 

A pained frown down-turned John’s mouth.

 

“We don’t have to plan a thing. We can just go to the registrar’s office and get married there. No muss, no fuss.” John tried to keep his voice light.

 

Another sigh. “I just want this to be perfect for us. I want our friends and family there with us. I want to be able to share this with you and all of them, but I don’t know if I can write another speech. Stand in front of another crowd of people. It was so awkward the last time, John, in case you’ve forgotten.”

 

John laughed in spite of himself. “I will never forget that day, Sherlock.”

 

“That’s one more thing I’m worried about.”

 

John could tell where this was now heading. He bookmarked the page of his novel and set it on the small table beside him. He stood up from his chair and took a step forward and knelt behind Sherlock on the floor.

 

“You know what I meant, you pedantic shit.” He reached over Sherlock's shoulder and gently pressed the laptop closed and moved his arms around the base of Sherlock's neck; a loose embrace. He kissed his neck.

 

“If we’re discussing this, I might as well tell you.” Sherlock leaned his head back against John’s left shoulder.

 

Six months ago, John was stabbed in that shoulder by an improperly restrained suspect at New Scotland Yard. Aside from a small bit of range of motion depletion and a monthly visit to his physical therapist for evaluations, John’s injury has all but healed.

 

Sherlock turned his face away from John, indicating his unease.

 

“The last time you were married, it was, as you can imagine, a difficult time for me. It was a daily struggle helping you and Mary with the wedding details. As much as I liked her, it was hard for me to assist you in leaving me behind.”

 

“Sherlock. I’m not leaving you behind. I wasn’t back then, either. We’re moving forward together now.” John began to sway them softly from side to side. Sherlock let himself be swayed, John’s way of comforting him and also helping to coax him into telling him what was bothering him.

 

“There is also the guilt that I’ve been feeling.”

 

John stopped their motion. “Guilt? Over what?”

 

“Despite her shortcomings, I also loved Mary. Quite a bit, in fact. I feel, especially lately, that I’m infringing on something that is not mine to have.”

 

“Shortcomings? That’s one way of putting it.” John moved them both to sit and he guided Sherlock to turn and face him.

 

“As much as I thought I loved her, she was just a replacement for you, while you were, um, away. The grief when you were gone, Sherlock, it was, like a lead weight on my body. Pushing me down every moment I was awake. I met her, and when I was with her, the weight wasn’t so heavy. It was like she was helping me carry it. She kept me from swallowing my gun, Sherlock. I would wake up every morning, and when the realisation that you were dead finally washed over me, I used the promise of seeing her as a reason to keep going forward. For that, I will always be grateful to her. I loved her support, but I don’t think I actually loved _her_.”

 

“I still feel as though I’m doing her memory a disservice.”

 

“SHE DID YOU A DISSERVICE BY SHOOTING YOU IN THE CHEST!” Sherlock leaned back, in reaction to John’s outburst. John’s hands went to his own face, and he scrubbed his palms up and down. An inhale, a slow exhale, and he continued:

 

“I think she knew it, Sherlock; she saw it the moment you came back. She knew she and I were on borrowed time. She also realised that you and I were always meant to be a team. Regardless of the definition. In the beginning, she even encouraged us to be together. Work cases. Have you be around to help plan our wedding. She never tried to exclude you. Jealousy has motivated far better people than her to do shitty things. She knew how much I loved you. Which is why I still cannot believe she thought her only option during the Magnussen case was to shoot you. Knowing what your loss would do to me again. That moment alone should've been enough for me to understand that she didn’t truly love me either.” John shook his head in disbelief and he looked to the ceiling. He brought his eyes back to Sherlock's after a moment, shining with threatening tears.

 

“I saw that video, Sherlock. The one where she told us she knew what we could become if she was gone. I think she knew I would need her permission or absolution or something to move forward with you after she’d passed. Our relationship was complicated. She knew I held a grudge about how she mishandled the Magnussen case. I was never able to let go of that anger. She also knew how much we loved each other. She loved how much you loved me and Rosie. There’s no one else that she would trust our happiness and safety to more than you.” John reached forward and put his palms on Sherlock's thighs, his thumbs tracing invisible patterns on Sherlock's knees.

 

 

“I think that video was her way of telling us that it was okay for us to finally be what we always should’ve been. She couldn’t have known the exact circumstances of her death, but I think she did know that one or both of us would feel guilty about being together.” John squeezed Sherlock’s knees. Sherlock was chewing on his lower lip.

 

“I think she’s already given us her blessing, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock finally spoke.

 

“So, you’re basically telling me that I have to forgive myself for whatever misplaced residual guilt I’m holding on to and move past it. Is that it?”

 

“I don’t want to tell you how you should feel. But I thought my feelings on the subject might be valid. Might be able to help you see a different side of the situation.”

 

A breath. “As always, my conductor of light is able to illuminate something I’ve been unable to see. A light shone brightly on a darkened corner of my thoughts.”

 

John smiled again, the fondness of his expression unmistakable.

 

“You can take your time, you know? There’s no real rush. We’re already together. We have the adoption papers in the flat. If we both sign them, we can have them ready to go if something happens to one of us before we get married. I’m sure Mycroft would slide the paperwork through and back-date it to make everything legitimate.”

 

Sherlock shook his head.

 

“What’s wrong? Sherlock? Oh. Oh no. Have you changed your mind? Do you not want to get married anymore?” John began to panic, his words coming at a frenetic pace.

 

“I guess we don’t have to get married if you don’t want to. We could just go with a civil partnership. Or just keep things the way they are. Sign the papers. Or not. If that’s something you’re reconsidering. I could think more about who I’d like to take Rosie if something were to happen to me. If you’ve thought more about that and decided you wouldn’t want to raise her on your own. That would be hard for you. To still have your work and be a single parent. Mrs. Hudson adores her, but at her age, I wouldn’t want that burden for her. Perhaps Molly? Rosie really loves her. Maybe I could talk to Molly about this...” John trailed off and let out a short breath.

 

Sherlock couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow. And you tell me I have a tendency to over-analyze things and spin things out of control. John. Look at me?” Sherlock tucked his thumb under John’s chin, raising his face so he could see his eyes.

 

“Also, breathe. I know in the past I’ve said that breathing is boring, but I really don’t want you to faint.”

 

Sherlock reached out, hands encircling John’s neck, thumbs lightly rubbing John’s Adam’s apple.

 

“I shook my head no to delaying the wedding. I would really like to have a ceremony with just us and a few witnesses. If you’d like, we could have a party afterward so our friends and family can celebrate with us. A short speech from the two of us, food and dancing? Back here in our own bed by midnight?”

 

John leaned forward and Sherlock’s hands went around the back of John’s neck. John pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock's lips then brought their foreheads together. His hands drifted to Sherlock’s sides.

 

“ _ **That**_ sounds like a fantastic idea. Possibly your best yet.” John felt Sherlock’s body relax, his shoulders releasing most of the tension he’d been holding there. Sherlock leaned forward, his hands sliding down John’s back and pulling him close, their knees bumping clumsily.

 

“I still don’t think I deserve you. But I’ll take this. And you. If you’ll still have me and all of my accompanying neurosis.”

 

“I happen to think your lunacy is quite charming.” Sherlock pressed his face against John’s neck and they held each other until Rosie let them know it was time to make her something for supper.

 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

 

They were married two months later at [The Old Marylebone Town Hall](https://www.adaytoremember.london/old-marylebone-town-hall) on 12 June. The eighth anniversary of Sherlock’s fall from St. Bartholomew’s roof. They both wanted to attempt to change the climate of that date within their relationship. Mycroft was able to hasten the paperwork and rent out [The Marylebone Room](https://www.emmaduggan.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/marylebone-room-old-marylebone-town-hall-wood-panelling-diamond-motif-feature-carved-wooden-fireplace.jpg) despite the year-long waiting list: His gift to the grooms. Lestrade was John’s Best Man and Molly was Sherlock’s Best Woman. Mrs. Hudson held their rings. Rosie was tasked with throwing flower petals on the carpet as John and Sherlock were led down the makeshift aisle by their respective attendants. Happy tears were shed. The grooms didn’t feel the need to write their own vows, instead repeating the words spoken to them by the registrar.

 

They had a get-together a few hours later at [The Grouch Club](https://www.thegrouchoclub.com/private-events-rooms/the-dining-room/). John chose this venue, for its obvious similarity to Sherlock’s aversion to most of the wedding planning. The humour of it was not lost on Sherlock.

 

The grooms were dressed in identical [suits](https://images.menswearhouse.com/is/image/TMW/MW40_33CK_14_CALVIN_KLEIN_BLUE_POSTMAN_SET?%2440MainPDP%24). Only their closest friends, family, and favourite clients were invited. Rosie sat at a table with Mrs. Hudson, Mrs. Turner, and her Aunt Harry. As per tradition, John and Sherlock were at the front table, Lestrade to John’s right and Molly to Sherlock’s left.

 

Lestrade clinked his spoon against his water glass. “I think it’s about time we heard from the grooms! John is going to go first.” He waved his left hand towards John.

 

As John stood, he set his left hand on Sherlock's right shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

 

“Firstly, Sherlock and I want to thank all of you for coming to celebrate this occasion with us today. We were married three hours ago in a private ceremony. This last year and a half has been rather tumultuous for Sherlock and me. We’ve been through quite a lot. And, thanks to the love and support of many of you, he and I are able to stand here today in front of you, as husbands. I’d also suspect that a few of you have thought this should have happened long ago.” A wink, then a laugh from the small crowd.

 

“I don’t want to be maudlin on this wonderful day, but I think the following needs to be said: I do not regret my previous marriage. From that, I was blessed with my beautiful Rosie. The only thing I can truly say I regret from the entirety of my life was never making my feelings for Sherlock as obvious to him as possible. All of you saw it. Mary saw it. But the one person who never seemed to trust what he thought he saw, was the one who mattered the most. I think he still doubts it, and I married him today, for fuck’s sake!”

 

“Daddy! Wangwidge!”

 

John laughed at the levity only the outburst of a child could bring. “Sorry, love!” He leaned towards the table for his water glass, took a sip and pressed on.

 

“I never wanted to admit that Sherlock loved me. Being on the receiving end of this man’s admiration and affection was something I didn’t think was possible. Why me? Of all the people he knew, why would I be the person this man would have emotions and feelings for? As I got to know him, I realised that I wasn’t the only person he loved. For those of us who really know him personally, we know he loves in spite of himself. I hope he knows how infinitely he is loved by everyone in this room and especially by those in our home.

 

“I will live the rest of my life beside him if he’ll have me. I’ll walk through fire for him. An aside, he actually walked through fire for me once. Not a metaphor but an actual truth. I will kill for him.” John turned and curled his mouth into a grin, just for Sherlock. Lestrade looked around the room in confusion.

 

“I will devote the rest of my life showing him how much he is cared for, how much he is loved. I will feed him up, make him sleep, and see him through illness and health. Sherlock, I cannot wait for the rest of our life to start. And I’m so happy that you want to share your work and your life with me and Rosie.” John bent to place a kiss on Sherlock's forehead and decided to ruffle his hair for good measure.

 

Molly then stood, raising her champagne flute and tapping it with her fork. “Now, it’s time to hear from Sherlock!” She clapped as she sat down by his side.

 

Sherlock stood and began abruptly.

 

“Since many of you attended the reception a few years ago for John’s first marriage, I wanted to state for the record that I am still a ridiculous, unpleasant, rude, ignorant, asshole...”

 

“Papa! Wangwidge!” Everyone in the room was unable to hold back a laugh. Including Rosie’s papa. He cleared his throat and began again.

 

“But for some unexplainable reason, the man beside me, who also remains the bravest, kindest, and wisest person I’ve ever known, has decided that he wants to marry me. Spend the rest of his life with me. Raise his daughter alongside me. Run about London next to me, charging headlong into uncharted dangers, to solve crimes.”

 

“As most of you know, the idea of sentiment was abhorrent to me. Caring for, or loving another person, had shown me, as evidenced by our work, is usually the root of many dark deeds. I always felt myself above that. My intellect and reasoning were all I needed to satiate my life. For most of my life, I spent much of it alone. I didn’t realise I was also lonely for most of that time, as well. Not until I met John. I never realised that takeaway and shit telly was better when shared with someone else. Especially when such unwavering warmth and kindness comes from a person so unexpected. A friendship I never expected to have, and most of the time, a friendship that I might not deserve.”

 

He turned from the room to face John. “I never thought I’d have a friend let alone a husband. I never knew I even wanted a husband until I met you. I love you more than a locked room murder. I love you more than a case we would rate a 10. I love you more than that thing you make with the peas. I love you more than ginger nuts. In short, I love you more than anything I have ever seen or known for the entirety of my life. Thank you for believing in me, for believing in us, and for never giving up hope for us making our way back to each other. John Watson-Holmes. You, as always, keep me right.” Sherlock reached down and grabbed John by the left hand and yanked him from his chair and pulled him straight into his arms. Arms that held him so tight, he was pulled off the floor. In front of them, their guests were wiping their eyes and clearing phlegm-y throats. The sound of someone blowing their nose shook the husbands from their revelry. Sherlock set John down and surveyed the room.

 

“Oh no. John? Did I do it wrong again? Why are they all doing that?”

 

“They’re all doing that because you are a beautiful man who just said some equally beautiful things. Come here, love.” Rosie jumped from her seat and made her way behind the table before someone could get a hold of her. John and Sherlock embraced again and held each other for a few moments when Rosie climbed up onto John’s chair and inserted herself between her fathers. They squeezed her between them, John’s arm under her bottom, Rosie’s temple against Sherlock’s shoulder, Sherlock’s arm around his new family. Everyone seemed to collect themselves enough to be able to use their phones to snap pictures of the Watson-Holmes family.

 

When dinner was finished, they adjourned to the dance floor. John and Sherlock’s first dance was to [Ray Charles' Come Rain or Come Shine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pxs3jGy9k9w). John even managed to give Sherlock a twirl towards the end of the song, despite having to stand on his tiptoes to get him under his arm. As they laughed, John pulled Sherlock to his chest and rested his forehead under his neck. They stood there, Sherlock’s nose in John’s hair and John breathing in Sherlock’s fading cologne. Together they swayed as if no one else was there.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 

They arrived at Baker Street at half eleven. Sherlock, holding Rosie; John and Mrs. Hudson carrying the gifts from their guests. With kisses to cheeks, the quartet parted ways at the base of the stairs that lead to the upstairs flat. Sherlock passed Rosie to Mrs. Hudson who’d offered to watch her overnight so John and Sherlock could be alone. Rosie didn’t stir a bit during the hand-off. She nuzzled her face into Mrs. Hudson’s neck and began to snore softly. Just like her father.

 

“I’ll see you boys in the morning! Rosie will be sleeping in my room tonight. And I’ll be using my earplugs, so you two can...”

 

“THANK YOU, MRS. HUDSON!” they both scream-whispered as they back-peddled towards the stairs. The mortification set in.

 

“I love you both so much. Thank you for letting me be apart of your family.” She kissed their cheeks before hastily turning towards her own flat, imminent (happy) tears in her eyes. They watched her go. After she quietly closed and locked her door, their heads turned simultaneously.

 

“Ready, husband?” John asked as he reached for Sherlock's hand, a whimsical expression from his eyes down to his lips.

 

“Since the day we met, husband.” Sherlock clasped his hand around John’s and they ascended the stairs together.

 

 

They made their way inside their flat. John locked the door and turned to face Sherlock. “C'mon, Sherlock. Let’s go take a shower. Saves us a bit on the bill if we take it together.” John raised an eyebrow.

 

“I know you give absolutely no shits about the water bill. But I’ve been told when you are married, sometimes you should acquiesce to things your partner wants to make them happy. Consider this my first act of capitulation as husband and husband.” John reached for Sherlock's hand and brought it to his mouth and kissed his palm.

 

“If the night goes according to plan, I’ll have you surrendering for most of the night.”

 

The slowly walked down the hall to their loo, hand-in-hand. They undressed each other unhurriedly, making slow, efficient work of their ties and buttons; shoes and socks; zippers and elastic waistbands. They climbed into the stall together and took their time washing each other. Hands to hair, fingers across scalps, soapy suds under soft hands pressed to chests. Watery kisses pressed to tender, warm, pink flesh and pink lips. They toweled each other dry and fluffed each others’ hair with affection.

 

Sherlock backed them through the loo door and into their bedroom. He grasped both of John’s wrists and pulled him down on top of him, and immediately brought his legs around John’s back.

 

“I want to try something, Sherlock. Are you okay with that?”

 

“Anything you’d like. As long as we’re together, I’ll try anything.”

 

“I bought us something, for tonight. We’ve never used a toy before, but I think we should try it.”

 

Sherlock laid there, already lust-drunk, and simply nodded his head. John reached between their pillows for their conveniently placed bottle of lubricant and then laid across Sherlock and reached into his own night table. He procured a vibrator and waved it mischievously between them.

 

“I’m going to use this on myself, while you watch, and then I want you inside of me.”

Sherlock’s eyes went wide. He was obviously the luckiest man in England.

 

“You lie back and watch, yeah?”

 

Sherlock managed a nod. John turned his back to Sherlock, straddled Sherlock’s pelvis, slicked up the fingers on his left and inserted his index finger inside. Soon, another followed. Sherlock was transfixed. He’d never seen something so erotic in his entire life. And he’d been regularly fucking John Watson-Holmes for over a year.

 

John worked himself with two fingers, alternating between heavy sighs and low moans. He flicked it to the lowest setting, then slicked up the vibrator, and half turned to Sherlock.

 

“I need you to hold this for me, sweetheart. Watch what happens when I think about you inside me.”

 

Sherlock did as he was told, another accession of which Sherlock would never have thought himself capable a few years ago.

 

John raised his bottom, pulled his cheeks apart, and slowly slid down the length of the vibrator.

 

“I just want to get myself ready for you. You just lie there and watch.”

 

Sherlock wouldn’t have been able to look at anything else if he tried. John’s strong back and beautifully curved ass were all he was able to see. John’s head thrown back, the low hum of the vibrator, all he could hear. Sherlock took his own cock in his free hand, as he watched John worked himself open.

 

“Hey. You wait for me, love. Just a few more seconds and I’ll be all set for you. Get the lube and get yourself ready.”

 

Sherlock’s free hand flailed blindly until he was able to locate the bottle of lube. One-handed, he spilled a bit on his stomach, slid his hand messily through it, then slicked himself for John.

 

John straightened his back, letting the vibrator slip from his now wet, slippery hole.

 

Seeing that it was time, Sherlock comically threw the vibrator to the floor, still buzzing softly, and put his hands to his sides.

 

Turning around a bit to see him and then laughing, John said, “I’m really glad you’re so excited for this, Sherlock. Now just lie back and let me do this for you, okay?”

 

Sherlock swallowed hard and was barely able to nod. John turned back around, got up to his knees, and lined Sherlock's cock with his hole and ardently slid it inside. He kept his hands off his own cock.

 

Sherlock’s breath stuttered. h _ot-wet- sooooo tight. “_ Johhhhn _!”_ Sherlock wailed in pleasure. Still kneeling, John sat on Sherlock’s pelvis, and then bent a bit forward, his palms on Sherlock's thighs. He set a leisurely pace. He changed positions a few times, arching his back, a slow-dragging circle of his hips. Sherlock’s hands were on John’s waist, then they were sliding up and then down into John’s stomach and into his pubic hair as he let himself watch and feel everything.

 

After a few minutes, John could hear a whine rolling in Sherlock's throat.

 

“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

 

“I. I want to. To hold you. Please, John.”

 

John stopped his motions, untucked his legs, and leaned back until he was against Sherlock's chest. A relieved sigh. Sherlock’s arms came up and around John’s chest and he was pulled tightly against him. He could feel Sherlock's heart pounding against his back.

 

“Come on, Sherlock. Press up your hips. Give it to me.” John planted his feet and Sherlock did the same. John slid a bit to his left. He needed to kiss him. Sherlock lifted his back from the bed, his hand at the base of John’s neck and pulled their mouths together. An uncoordinated press, but they desperately needed a glimpse of the other’s face. John’s head leaned away from the kiss, the head of Sherlock’s cock stroking his prostate making it difficult to do anything but lean back against his husband. Sherlock mouthed at John’s right pectoral muscle, then he dragged his lips to his flank.

 

“John. I. I don’t think. I can last. Much longer. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay, love. Give me all you have.”

 

“For the rest. Of my life. Oh. John!”

 

Sherlock's hips left the bed, lifting John as well. He cried out as he came, spilling himself into John’s tight heat.

 

John willed himself not to come as Sherlock crushed him against his chest, the aftershocks of his orgasm continuing to roll through him like a slow tide. As Sherlock began to come back to himself he loosened his hold on John and kissed his shoulder, dragging one hand across John’s sweat-slick belly and chest and the other down towards John’s red, angry cock.

 

“You. Now you.” Sherlock stammered.

 

“Hold on, Sherlock.”

 

John arched his back, letting Sherlock's not yet soft cock slip from his hole with a grimace; Sherlock’s release dripping from John and onto his own pubic hair and cock. He collapsed on Sherlock’s torso, then slid his body onto his front, their mingling sweat easing the slide. He laid on Sherlock’s chest, his chin on his hands.

 

“Sherlock. Now  _ **you**_. One more for you, I should think.”

 

Sherlock's eyes went wide. They’ve never tried this before.

 

“You’re still a bit hard, gorgeous. Can we try? Sherlock? Sweetheart? May I have you?”

 

Sherlock felt tears in his eyes. His throat clenched. ‘ _I am loved.”_ he thought. For the first time, he actually believed it.

 

“Okay. Yes, John. Okay.”

 

 

“Ready?”

 

Sherlock nodded weakly.

 

“Let’s get you warmed up again, yeah?”

 

John, now on his knees, made his way to Sherlock, deciding to lave some attention to Sherlock’s mouth and neck. Nips to his jaw, the tip of his tongue licking softly at his mouth. He pulled Sherlock's lovely lower lip in between his own and suckled as he lowered his hand. He swiped at the come on Sherlock's cock, then smeared it on his palm. He cupped Sherlock’s blossoming erection.

 

“There you are. My beautiful Sherlock.” John left Sherlock’s mouth and neck and trailed open-mouthed kisses down his chest to his belly.

 

He dragged his hand through the cooling come on Sherlock’s pelvis and coated his fingers. He smeared some at Sherlock’s hole, and slowly pressed a finger inside, his thumb pressing lightly at his perineum. His finger found Sherlock's prostate, and, ever so softly, pushed against it, sliding the pad of his finger in soft circles.

 

Sherlock writhed, moaning John’s name. Just the way John liked to hear it. His name said with that voice. John had to hurry before Sherlock’s sounds ended things too soon.

 

“One more finger, Sherlock. That’s it. Oh, love. Look at you. You’re taking my fingers so well.” John kissed Sherlock's belly, the muscles quivering under his lips.

 

After a minute of scissoring, John removed his fingers and found the lube bottle, left forgotten by Sherlock's hip. He poured some directly on his cock, the first time he’d touched himself since they began, and his breath caught. A few strokes and he was ready. He spread some lube on Sherlock’s hole,

lifted Sherlock’s thighs and folded his legs at the knees and lined himself up. He leisurely pushed inside and then moved his hands to Sherlock’s thighs and gripped them tight. He slid inside Sherlock to the base of his cock.

 

He began to move.

 

“Sherlock. I love you. We’re married, love. We’re husbands.”

 

“John. I believe you now. That you really love me. Thank you. For. Loving. Me.”

 

Sherlock's neck arched. John couldn’t quite reach his mouth to kiss him. It was times like these when their height difference was a bit irritating. He pressed his mouth to Sherlock's sternum, mouthing wet, hot kisses as he slowly felt his own release building in his toes.

 

“Sherlock? Are you close?”

 

“Yes. Surprisingly.”

 

John laughed. They could even banter a bit in bed.

 

John licked his hand and then circled it around Sherlock’s length, finding it scorchingly hot.

 

“Come on, Sherlock. You need to come. Please. Come for me. Let me see you. Let me feel you tighten around me.”

In what was becoming a trend, Sherlock did as he was told. He unfolded his legs, releasing his legs from John’s iron-like grip. As his ejaculate splashed his own stomach, he locked his ankles around John’s ass, pushing him even further inside. Sherlock’s passage contracting around John.

 

“Come on, John”, Sherlock managed to say through a thready breath. “You’ve held back long enough.”

 

An animalistic grunt, and four hard thrusts later. John was coming, too, coating Sherlock’s insides.

 

They collapsed in a sweaty heap, arms find their way around each other, kissing each other’s hair and foreheads. After their hard breathing settled back to normal rhythms. John pulled out of Sherlock and then sidled up to his side of the bed. He leaned back towards his night table and pulled out the package of wet wipes they left there for this express purpose. He tossed one at Sherlock and kept one for himself and they proceeded to wipe each other down. There was no way they were getting out of this bed for anything until morning. By the look of him, John didn’t think Sherlock was going to be able to move for a very long time. He looked very well-fucked. John’s smile was smug, to say the least.

 

“I see that look on your face, John Hamish Watson.”

 

“John Hamish Watson-Holmes, you idiot. Get it right.”

 

“That does sound fabulous, doesn’t it?” Sherlock laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. His voice suddenly sounding far away. “William Sherlock Scott Watson-Holmes.”

 

“That sounds pretty fucking fantastic, too. A mouthful, for sure, but still sounds good rolling off the tongue.”

 

Sherlock turned his neck to face John, suddenly appearing serious. “As someone who never believed in marriage, I love the way my name sounds mingled with yours. I was insinuating that. The afternoon on the tarmac after the Magnussen case. When I was going to leave for Mycroft’s mission. The whole ‘Sherlock is a girls’ name’ rubbish. I wished for a Holmes to be a part of the Watson family. Your family.”

 

“Now you are.”

 

A contented yawn. “Now I am.” Sherlock’s eyes fluttered closed and his lips parted. A soft exhale and then he was asleep.

 

John shuffled closer, gathered Sherlock in his arms, pressed his lips softly against Sherlock’s temple and whispered, “Now we are.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be marking this series as complete. I've left them in a good place, I think. There may be a continuation at some point down the line. Maybe an epilogue? If there were any of you waiting to read this because it was sort of a WIP, never fear, it's safe to read now! 
> 
> If you got all the way down here, let me know what you thought! Kudos and comments are two of my most favorite things.
> 
> I also have this fic series available in paperback form! If you're interested, click here: http://www.lulu.com/shop/jennifer-bluhm/the-mind-palace-reprogramming/paperback/product-23982900.html


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